


come over

by serein (koshitsu_kamira)



Category: NCT (Band), SM Rookies
Genre: Best Friends, Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 06:31:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10354239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koshitsu_kamira/pseuds/serein
Summary: Perhaps the adoration started then, beneath the faded red-white striped awning, the October sun casting mellow shadows next to their sneaker clad feet. (Alternately, Doyoung is in love with his best friend, but Hansol doesn't mind.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> For Sarah, because compromises are beautiful. Thank you for the wonderful prompt. ♡

Taeil was still wearing pajamas when Doyoung dropped by his downtown apartment, hair disheveled, unruly tufts poking towards the ceiling, eyelids drooping heavily as he smothered a giant yawn with his sleeves, trying to hold the door open for the intruder that had roused him out of bed so early on a Saturday, his response to the other’s sunny “good morning” barely audible. Leaving his shoes by the foyer, the entrance shutting close behind him, Doyoung trailed after his sluggish host, the male navigating the corridors still half asleep, occasionally stumbling a bit, then ended up slumping down on the fluffy loveseat, flush against Taeil, his chin coming to a rest above the elder’s head, who burrowed into his chest, hands gripping the back of the shirt.

“Hey, don’t sleep on me,” Doyoung whined playfully, fingers combing through Taeil’s tresses, gently unraveling the tangles, chuckling at the incoherent words mumbled in his sweater, probably listless complaints, half-hearted excuses or “five more minutes,” and settled within the cushions, wholly content to wait until the other gathered enough will power so they could start the day. Looking around the living room, he spotted the remnants of late night snacks, crumpled candy bar wrappers, the dirty mugs stained dark from the hot chocolate mix which elicited a dark frown, his stomach dropping - hold tightening on Taeil’s nape, Doyoung squashed the need to quickly remove the cups, the evidence of someone else staying over, occupying what was his designated place.

“Did you have fun?” he asked, voice kept even, the question aimed to discover the identity of the visitor in a roundabout way; Doyoung knew his jealousy was both irrational and, simply put, idiotic; after all, Taeil’s life wouldn’t be put on pause just because his best friend had entered a relationship, furthermore, he couldn’t reasonably demand the older boy to stop meeting people. Taeil deserved a pleasant company for movie nights notwithstanding his stupid resentment, though, Doyoung reasoned, he still had the right to gauge whether the person actually deserved the other’s affections given so easily; albeit the elder could act shy, speak little amid strangers, past the initial timidity, he was disarmingly sweet, childlike in the sincerity of his devotion. Doyoung had seen Taeil let down and he hated witnessing those bright grins dim, the sparks within his eyes gone akin to stars blinking out of existence - perhaps, he cared too much, like all the acquaintances, exes had remarked bitterly: “ _ I deserve better than assigned second best _ ,” they said, but he couldn’t care less since ultimately everyone left, walked away.

“We marathoned Harry Potter,” Taeil muttered tiredly, his legs now draped over Doyoung’s lap as he wriggled into a more comfortable position, “Yoonoh insisted on watching the extended versions,” he whispered, almost nodding off again if not for the younger boy poking where he was ticklish, sneaky fingers irresistible, “okay, I’m getting up,” he squeaked, breathless. Flushed and wide awake, Taeil swatted the other’s hands aside, giggle melodious while Doyoung laughingly pressed on, cornering his slender form against the arm of the sofa, then, arms sagging, gotten crushed beneath the younger’s full weight; “you are heavy,” he complained, yet didn’t really give any inclination that he wanted to switch spots, “did you gain weight?”

“Rude,” Doyoung replied, blowing a raspberry under Taeil’s ear who squirmed violently in reaction, “Hansol does cook well,” he commented, mentioning his boyfriend of three months - they had recently celebrated the 100 day milestone - “seriously, he’s unreal;” sometimes he wondered how such a catch stuck around his lanky, disillusioned self, prone to leak anxious tears. Taeil hummed, the sound travelling across Doyoung’s torso, resonating inside his bones, “do you think Yoonoh and I are a good match?” he blurted, tone ponderous, catching the other unawares, whose heart skipped a beat, mind drawing a blank, the resulting silence prolonged, “never mind,” the elder uttered, patting his shoulder awkwardly, the air turning heavy between them.

“He treats you well, right?” Doyoung babbled eventually, after they had moved to kitchen, the weird atmosphere still lingering; near the stove, Taeil swiftly flipped a blueberry pancake, butter sizzling as he spooned fresh batter into the pan, “he’s very considerate,” the older boy answered, getting a plate from the cupboard, “somehow, I feel like we’re not compatible,” he revealed, facing his friend. Taeil’s expression radiated uncertainty and Doyoung feared he would drop the platter on hand, “Yoonoh is pretty outgoing,” he continued, twisting to serve the finished cakes, “in comparison, I prefer lazing at home, detest social functions which he attends twice a week,” he grimaced, placing their breakfast upon the table, then perched on the chair, knees bouncing anxiously. Doyoung drizzled maple syrup over the steaming pile, glancing at the elder questioningly, “did he ask you to join?” he queried, forking a pancake onto Taeil’s plate before taking a bite himself, “unless he forces you to come, I don’t see a problem,” he added, a tad clumsy, offering what he hoped was a reassuring grin, “anyway, Hansol and I are very different too, but we’re just fine so don’t worry,” he concluded, although he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had fooled both of them.

The peculiar taste of ashes intermingling with blueberries remained on his palate throughout the afternoon, even when he was sitting in front of the computer, browsing videos online, inevitably veering to check out Jung Yoonoh’s social network profile: the guy was classically handsome, features chiselled, Doyoung noted, someone mothers would happily tout around the neighbourhood. He mostly posted carefully edited photos, filter muted, chroma low, many of which featured Taeil reluctantly posing for the camera, albeit the younger could tell his smiles were genuine, having traced the blushing apples of his cheeks - notwithstanding the confirmation that Yoonoh was indeed a decent person, the unsettling notion swirling in his stomach, part jealousy he guessed, refused to quieten, instead became angrier. Face buried within his palms, Doyoung sighed, eyes shut, murmuring a curse: he was likely the worst friend ever, who simply wouldn’t support a relationship because of baffling personal issues completely unrelated to the potential couple; truthfully, he missed Taeil a lot, his absence a profound ache echoing in the moments the everyday distractions grew faint. 

The issue was rather trivial, Doyoung knew, except the solution continued eluding him since Hansol and Taeil’s schedules, especially the breaks often coincided, meaning he must choose between spending time with the people he equally cherished, meanwhile trying to avoid the same mistakes that ruined previous relationships, maybe erring on the side of caution. Taeil had never broached the topic out of courtesy, showing respect towards their private affairs: he wordlessly accommodated Doyoung’s various requests to put off meetings, no scathing remarks, whereas the other boy secretly wished he would act selfish, stopped accepting the raincheck excuses - a migraine throbbing behind his forehead, he shuffled outside the hall, grinning tiredly at Hansol, just arrived home.

“Did you two fight?” Hansol abruptly interrupted their ongoing discussion about dinner options, phone screen flickering black underneath his thumb, and Doyoung froze, swallowing nervously; the facade masking his distress apparently wasn’t convincing enough to deceive the elder, whose searching glance didn’t miss a single detail, including the frown he had schooled into a quasi-smile. “No,” he replied, fiddling with the fraying ends of his sleeves, “I’m being stupid, really,” he explained, chuckle derisive, incredulous, “Yoonoh and Taeil are getting serious, which is a good thing,” he paused, catching Hansol’s gaze, “but I am so jealous, it’s embarrassing,” looking down, he stared at his socked feet, wiggling his toes, doing anything to distract him from the ugly situation.

Hansol remained quiet before shocking Doyoung once again, “don’t you love Taeil, though?” he asked, perfectly calm like he hadn’t challenged the very foundations of their relationship; “beyond friendship,” a clarification was added, leaving no room for misunderstanding when the younger man would have flat out denied the allegation, the reality he hadn’t dared examining, despite prior realization. Doyoung was the living testament of a cliche, and whatever effort he had made to avoid this fate only brought on the opposite result - now he contemplated whether Taeil had actually seen past the mirage, hence the evasive actions, his neutral attitude - the idea hurt; “what do you want me to do?” he stuttered, tone rough, unshed tears having formed a blockade in his throat. The ensuing silence was oppressive, charged with static electricity, a predictable, yet bitter kind of pain; shoulders hunched, muscles locked, Doyoung braced himself against the pity, even disgust his pathetic answer had elicited; he frankly didn’t expect the arm drawing him into a comforting embrace and Hansol’s jaw resting above his temple, “we should talk.”

Doyoung was near combustion, the objections, confused questions crowding on the tip of his tongue, disorientation numbing his senses, mental capacities: Hansol’s vague suggestion failed to provide a straightforward, easy fix, moreover, he couldn’t grasp the other’s true intents: would they simply break up or was he proposing another way to figure out the situation? Taking a deep breath, he spilled, “I don’t understand,” sounding lost and utterly clueless, making Hansol exhale long, fingers drawing random patterns on Doyoung’s palm while he deliberated the response, “I meant all three of us,” the elder asserted, movements stilling, “I’ve told you how my last relationship was unusual?” a cautious pause, “I had multiple lovers back then.”

The concept wasn’t foreign, nor preposterous enough to warrant the speechless hiccup that left the younger boy’s mouth, since Doyoung had already heard of the so-called polyamorous lifestyle where the partners would negotiate the common rules before actually getting involved - the entire arrangement seemed rational, whereas the underlying motive was the basic emotion, love. Nevertheless, he regarded the whole setup with a distant, begrudging admiration usually reserved for elusive scenarios, a parallel universe where he wasn’t inhibited by fears and the self-doubt society had instilled within: the braver version of him probably wouldn’t have sat crumpled upon a worn, second-hand sofa, hosting a pity party, “ _ would he? _ ” Doyoung entertained the thought. Heeding such fantasies never amounted to any good though, so he refocused on the present, Hansol’s steady breathing, the solid weight of his arm; “are you serious?” he whispered tentatively, relief flooding him as the other man nodded, grip tightening around the younger’s hand, “then,” he began, infinitely lighter, hopeful, “what do we tell him?” his boyfriend hummed, almost distractedly, until his stomach growled obscenely loud - Doyoung felt a smile tug at his mouth; “let’s eat first, talk later... I’m dying here.”

Doyoung had supposed their conversation would take place over dinner, a short affair akin to ripping off the band-aid, where the burn lasted agonizing moments, ahead the sweet relief, however, the older man kept speaking,  _ the most throughout the months they had been dating _ , he observed, going into precise details about the dynamics, particularities of the relationship. Admittedly, Doyoung was intimidated after learning the many pitfalls they could encounter, the various facets the participants should consider, the extent temperament, personality traits might influence the shared bond - honestly, if he didn’t like Taeil and Hansol so much, he would have quit at that second, plate untouched, chopsticks hovering uncertainly mid-air. Albeit his friends claimed Doyoung had an appetite for risk, who welcomed hitchhiking adventures, spontaneous backpacking journeys to lesser traveled areas, they didn’t see how those decisions were based on precise calculations, entailing backup plans, check lists, emergency routes; he normally tackled challenges following an intense preparation session during which uncertainty was systematically eliminated.

Doyoung enjoyed puzzles, loved shuffling the pieces, the process of putting the fragments together to form a bigger picture: in the next few weeks, he studied Taeil with a single-minded focus, reviewing the innate knowledge having accumulated since elementary school, when a bespectacled upperclassman bought ice cream for the weeping neighbour kid. The taste of red bean was still vivid within Doyoung’s recollection, beside the pure concern on Taeil’s young face, lips pursed, sweaty palm encasing his smaller hand - perhaps the adoration started then, beneath the faded red-white striped awning, the October sun casting mellow shadows next to their sneaker clad feet, both kid-sized, growing imperceptible along their strides. Doyoung now attempted catching up with the buried feelings having evolved through the seasons, the innocent fondness that had matured into an infinitely complex emotion; occasionally, the pitter-patter of his heart or the accompanying warmth startled him, and he might have floundered without Hansol, whose gentle demeanor inspired trust, honest conversations. He cared, Doyoung could sense on a visceral level, therefore confiding him in was easy, even as the subjects became increasingly uncomfortable, highly sensitive - Hansol would laugh, eyes crinkling in good-natured mirth whenever the other boy cursed poor Jung Yoonoh, his effervescent grin reminiscent of the time they fell in love over disposable coffee cups and instant noodle soup.

Watching Taeil succumb to Hansol’s quirky magic, boyish mannerism the same way Doyoung had done, was strangely reassuring, lifted the pressure from his chest, and granted breathing room necessary for appreciating their little bubble of intimacy, the world outside the flat melting away in a miraculous instant, amplifying the distilled sense that they belonged together. The truth resonated deep inside the chuckles shared, the glances caught, the shy touches lingering afterwards, seeking reciprocation: Hansol would casually hug the eldest, swaying along an uptempo ballad, the pair filling the kitchen with mischievous, carefree giggles and Doyoung was just contented to observe their clumsy movements, affection overflowing. Sometimes Yoonoh came up in conversations - the younger man’s antics, cheerful mentality apparently fascinated Taeil, but Doyoung couldn’t be bothered anymore because  _ he  _ was the person holding onto the popcorn bowl on movie nights, the plus-one attending company luncheons, the cook receiving the grateful kisses his best friend sneaked under the pretense of tasting the food. Gradually, Hansol joined their impromptu outings to contemporary art galleries, warehouse cafés or winter picnics at the Han riverside: now and again, Doyoung was left walking by the couple huddled close, discussing some topics in excited whispers, yet he didn’t mind, acknowledging that his current and prospective boyfriends should get acquainted if they wanted a functioning relationship.

His patience finally paid off one crisp afternoon, at the intersection of Winter and Spring when reality seemed transient, vague - Taeil was leaning against the bridge railing, taking tiny sips of a grapefruit soju, his cheeks slowly gaining color, a delicate pink which matched the background sunset; “I really like Hansol,” he confessed, draining the dark green bottle empty, “and you too.” The oncoming car headlight momentarily blinded Doyoung, who stood frozen, vacillating between relief and wonder before he grabbed Taeil’s hand, silently towing the older boy towards the subway; “hey,” the other called out, peering at him as they settled in a relatively empty corner of the rush hour train, “why are we going home?” he queried, a tad nervous, lips quivering. There was a thousand words Doyoung wished to convey at once, exclamations of joy, gratitude, although neither time, nor place was ideal; so choosing another solution, he dived in, pressing a chaste kiss on Taeil’s warm mouth, fingers splayed around his waist, holding the older boy still while the commuters shuffled impatiently near the exit - “I think Hansol would like to celebrate together,” he said, grinning.


End file.
